Afterglow
by freiheitfuehlen
Summary: Kalinda/Cary finally get their sh*t together in all their dysfunctional glory. Written for Jess who requested Kalinda/Cary of any kind.


**A/N: **Written for Jess who adores them.

**Afterglow**

"_You keep me wanting more, one foot in and one foot out the door."_

"I don't want her," Cary said with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

He watched her leave his office in the elegant sway she had perfected over the years. When the clattering of her shoes grew more and more distant and vague, Cary remained sitting in his chair and stared blankly ahead, lost in his own thoughts. Unconsciously he repeated those words – silently but albeit mercilessly, over and over again in a frail attempt and with mere hope that maybe the quantity of his words could someday outweigh the truth his admission lacked.

Dana was smart, beautiful and trustworthy, he admonished himself. Cary thought about his parents, their house in Connecticut and the life they seemed to enjoy to the fullest of their abilities and expectations. He wanted that, too. Someday. He loved the life of a bachelor – fun, independent and diverse. But at some point and Cary was dangerously close to the big 3-0, he reminded himself, he wanted more; a life outside of work, something to work for rather than to live for work.

Cary sighed, shook his head in an attempt to shake these thoughts from his mind and when he switched off the lights in his office all he thought was that drowning his issues in expensive liquor seemed like a reasonably smart decision – the perks of his job, he added cynically.

He traced the rim of the glass in front of him when he heard her voice, accusing, and he imagined how she must look at him sternly, shoulders stiff; her posture, he knew, always spoke more honestly than her words were able to – at least to him.

"You're screening my calls."

The sound of her voice and her breath on his skin let the hairs on the back of Cary's neck stand up and he chided himself for still being physically attracted to her –despite everything they had ever done to hurt each other, and yearning something that never existed outside of his imagination.

He could have done a lot of things in that moment and maybe, he would regret coming here -of all places, in the morning knowing well that she tended to choose this bar as her after work get away. Cary could have come back with a witty remark, hinting at her general disinterest in anything that she did not profit from. But he remained silent for a moment longer, choosing his words wisely, trying not to add fuel to the fire he went with the truth.

"Yes."

He did not invite her to sit beside him, but she did it anyway, just like Cary had suspected. He did not offer her a drink, so she ordered tequila for both of them. Cary had no intentions to look at her, even acknowledge her presence more than he already had – she was in his head constantly, she certainly did not have to invade his blissful oblivion, drowned in alcohol, too. But Kalinda did not move, not even an inch. She stood next to him, staring at Cary and daring him – almost demanding that he stop avoiding her.

"What?" his words were spoken with such harshness that it surprised even himself. Kalinda did not react at all and that fact alone let the guilt set in. He sighed audibly, turned his head and asked once more in a softer tone of voice.

"What do you want from me?"

He expected her to come close – too close, invading his personal space and filling his nostrils with her unique, omnipresent scent; it plagued him. Sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night smelling a hint of ginger and seeing nothing but her face, imprinted on the back of his eyes like a tattoo; never fading.

In those nights, when he was not blocking it out if felt like a brick falling on his head rather than pebble, well then, it felt like yesterday. He felt like yesterday in a month of tomorrows. Tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow would be easier. Someday he would move out of yesterday. Someday it would be more like last summer. Vague, warm, littered.

"I want you to drink with me. Then I want you to get two more and then I want to sort this out."

In that moment Cary felt like strangling Walt Disney for idolizing love when what it usually was, was nothing but a merely torn, well-intentioned but failing never happily ever after.

Kalinda kept her distance like Cary knew she would. People often called him a cynic; he liked to call it tough luck.

Her words sounded so casual and uncommitted it could have fooled anyone but him. He had told her once that she could not fake him; anyone but certainly not him. In his weaker moments he thought that maybe Kalinda, in all her self-preservation glory, was exactly what he needed; certainly not a damsel in distress because he knew well that he was not a knight in shining armor, nor would he ever want to be one.

Kalinda intrigued him and revoked him at the same time. She was the most reliable co-worker he had ever had and the least reliable friend he would ever find. She pushed him to do great – better to succeed, and at the same time she pulled him in, time after time, to leave him standing in the rain without an umbrella.

With her – with everyone, but mostly with her, everything was subject to compromise.

So when he swallowed the tequila it burned the back of his throat just a little more than it usually did. He grimaced and let the liquor settle in his stomach, engulfing his body in a well-deserved warmth.

Cary hated tequila, almost as much as he hated coming second to someone – to something, to anything.

"Why didn't you drink?"

He studied her closely. The dark eye shadow that made her look even more dangerous; and that she was. The soft red of her lips, daring him to taste and treasure. Kalinda was the exception to every rule, even her own, he thought bitterly.

"I don't need to drink to do this," Kalinda said curtly, almost neutrally as if it was a blatant truth, subject to nothing but his misinterpretation.

"To do what exactly?" Cary smirked and raised one of his eyebrows before ordering two more drinks for them; Scotch this time around. For once, he decided, they were going to play this game his way, if only for as long as the liquor clouded his judgment, fooling him in the belief that he was in control; rather than being dependent on the amount of closer – emotional that was, Kalinda was willing to give.

Kalinda downed her shot in one go, licked her lips and when she saw Cary's eyes following the trail her tongue made along her lips she leaned forward, pressing her body tightly against his, and closed the distance between them until their lips touched. It was not overly passionate or unusually chaste; it simply was a kiss between two people who shared mutual attraction, albeit stumbling over miscommunication and denial.

Cary brought his hands to each side of her face, holding her close and keeping her from drawing back.

"What are we doing," he whispered softly against Kalinda's lips. He felt the vibrations on his lips before he heard words and when he understood what she was saying, he leaned back, putting space between them; needing to distance himself from her.

"Cary. I still don't know."

He sighed, took a last sip from the Scotch, put some bills on the counter top to pay for both of their drinks and headed out the door.

"That's not enough," Cary admitted quietly, shaking his head in frustration.

Falling in love with Kalinda Sharma just was not an option; at all, Cary understood. So he knew he was screwed when he knocked on the door to her apartment at 2.35 am.

"Cary," she half stated, half asked in a voice of sheer confusion.

But Cary did not say anything, knowing well that words had failed them before – on many occasions. So he stepped forward, taking her face in both of his hands and walked her slowly backwards against the wall. Then he kissed her, really kissed her for the first time – hard, fiercely and determinedly. Tonight, Cary swore to himself, he was going to erase every trace Peter Florrick had ever left on Kalinda; replaced by fierce kisses, swallowing the taste of Peter with every single touch of their lips. And when he entered her, high on desire and bravery, he filled her – completely; moving slowly and steadily, cautious to her needs. When she screamed out his name in pure ecstasy – an unwanted and unplanned act of losing self-control, Cary assumed he had killed the demon in the back of his mind.

Then and there he finally made it through yesterday.

The end.


End file.
